


Old College Try

by kinkyhux



Series: This Morning I Know Who You Are [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Agoraphobia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, Blow Jobs, Dominant Hux, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Hux Backstory, Hux Wears Glasses, Injury Recovery, Insomnia, Kylo Ren Backstory, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mental Instability, Mild Kink, Porn with Feelings, Submissive Kylo Ren, They are hurt in many ways and they take refuge in each other., Vanilla, not a lot of backstory but enough that i wanted to tag it, some tags are brief mentions only
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6427225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkyhux/pseuds/kinkyhux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't intend to leave until the dust has settled. They don't intend anything. They hold on. They let themselves feel what has been held.</p><p>After an accident, Hux and Ben spend some alone time together in the beautiful Georgian mountains. They are hurt, from new wounds and old, and need each other to heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old College Try

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnatoleKuragin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnatoleKuragin/gifts).



> This is for Lauren, because we love TMG and these two assholes so much. And I love her, she's great.  
> I apologize for any formatting, grammar, spelling, etc. issues, as I have no BETA-er except myself! But I worked pretty hard to fix this up, so I really hope it's all good!  
> ____________________
> 
> I was listening to “White Cedar” by The Mountain Goats (you can see now why all the songs on the playlist for this are TMG, if you’ve looked at it) and I had this beautiful idea of Kylo & Hux doing like a sexy naked forest photo shoot looking all sad and pale and existential.
> 
> That, obviously, is not what this is about. But they are in a forest being pale and sexy and a little bit naked, sometimes, so. It counts.
> 
> Anyway, when I first heard it, I knew that "Old College Try" had to be the title of this. More than “White Cedar” and more than “Idylls of the King” which were my first and second choices. Listen to the song, I promise it’s worth it. And it means so much to this piece. Also, listen to all of the songs on the playlist. Because they're all just as significant. Put it on while you read, you don't even have to pay attention to the words. Just. Soak it up. It's there; you'll feel it.

_I can feel it in the rotten air tonight **/** In the tips of my fingers, in the skin on my face **/** In the weak last gasp of the evening's dying light **/** In the way those eyes I've always loved illuminate this place_

The Mountain Goats 

-

  
  


Ben Solo stared into green eyes and felt weightless. Rain pattered quietly against the sliding doors that lead out to the patio. His own eyes trailed, as slow as the thunder rolled in the distance, across Hux’s face, taking in the curves and faint freckles, the stray hairs that fell on his forehead. The lights in the cabin were dim, pulling abstract shadows into lines on his skin. The old quilt beneath them smelled like dust when they first got here, and then it smelled like them.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Hux asked, voice cracking slightly in an attempt to be quiet. Ben laughed, rested his forehead on Hux’s shoulder as he fell beside him. His clothes were too warm, but he couldn’t find the energy to remove them.

“More wine?” Ben lifted himself from the bed with effort to retrieve the bottle. Even if Hux said no, he’d drink some more.

“Brilliant idea!” Hux replied, surprisingly, on a smile. He stretched out his tired limbs and yawned as he continued, “Actually, some of that bourbon would be lovely.”

Hux said words like “lovely” and “brilliant” casually, but they made warmth swell in Ben’s chest as if they were compliments to him. Hux was unaware of the true extent of his effect; didn’t know the kind of power he held. Maybe it was for the best.

Ben thought both of them had had enough, but Hux would handle it well, unlike himself, who had only three glasses of wine in the last two hours and felt slow and dizzy.

He didn’t know how much Hux had, but he couldn’t bring himself to deny him much of anything.

He brought a glass with three fingers and his wine to the bed, sitting down gently. He took a small sip of the bourbon and winced before holding it out. “Fuck, that’s awful.”

“Just how I like it, then.” Hux sat up, took the glass, and finished it in four long gulps. Ben ignored the shaking in Hux’s hands, the redness in his cheeks. He didn’t want Ben to be there for him as much as be there  _ with _ him.

Ben didn’t remember everything. He remembered being shot in his side, loaded into an ambulance, and a few of his dreams.

Before it happened, he remembered holding Hux’s hand, kissing his hair and pushing him for poking fun at the way the wind made his own hair look. He remembered never seeing Hux look so happy. It was his first ice cream cone (“It’s mediocre,” then: “Shut up and eat it.”), his first walk on a beach (“But it’s hot and wet and weird--” then: “Shut up and walk with me.”), and so many things that weren’t firsts, but still felt special.

Every kiss was rebirth. Every touch was hope and brightness. Because things had been so bad before; every day was an intense struggle for one reason or another. Their problems, other people’s problems that somehow became theirs to deal with, seemed to come and change with the wind.

Hux was worst off, even if he wasn’t shot or slashed in the face. He was beaten, had his pride stripped along with his body. And they didn’t even want him--just his clothes, just whatever he used to hide himself from the world. He shook with the shock of it, thrashed from nightmares; and no matter what he told himself while he was awake, his fear was never going to disappear. His agoraphobia would crush him more than it ever had.

But he insisted Ben must be hurt, must be grieving for some loss, but he didn’t lose what Hux did that day, and a bullet can’t change a man as much as the man who pulls the trigger.

Ben kept his mouth closed about the tremors, and Hux didn’t pity him. These were small sacrifices.

After a few more hours of napping and drinking, Ben stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee. Hux followed behind him, chuckling to himself for a quip aimed at Ben’s sensitivity. Peas and mattresses. The whole nine yards.

“Coffee?” Hux asked, confused and messing with the edge of his t-shirt before he brought his arms up to hug himself. The cabin was cold for the spring weather. Hux was in just Ben’s shirt and his own underwear. He looked, in a twisted way, adorable. Delicate. An expensive painting, maybe, and Ben was the naughty schoolboy on a field trip, just begging to fuck it up and make it worthless. “I thought today was “get drunk and stay drunk” day?”

“I feel a little…” he didn’t finish, waving his hand aimlessly. Hux sidled up to him and wrapped himself around Ben, breathing in the smell of sweat from his hair, licking a stripe up the side of his neck. Ben shuddered, felt the dizziness of his head clear. They hadn’t fucked in months. “I’m not having sex with you drunk.” He felt stupid for saying it, but it needed to be said. There are certain things he had to deny him, even if they hurt.

“But.” Hux pulled his head back, arms falling away to rest at Ben’s hips. “You  _ would _ fuck me?”

“I suppose.”

“Would you let me fuck you?”

This question was odd--that’s how they normally functioned. Ben smirked. “Nope. My ass is happily retired.” The coffee pot started making restless, gurgling noises, and Ben turned to see Hux, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

He couldn’t believe it.

“Not really, man, come on.”

“I knew that,” Hux muttered, voice small. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m not in the mood.”

Hux frowned, but relented and sat at the island to wait for the coffee.

Ben’s smile grew wider. Around Hux, he asked himself if there ever was a time when he wasn’t. Hux was like a radiator in that sense--Ben hung his pants and his shirts and his heart on it in the morning, so when he had to get dressed and face the day, he would be happy and cozy and warm. Hux was quite the opposite, in reality (always cold, shivering, wearing sweaters and hats in the summer like a lunatic). Ben thought it endearing. Ben thought everything about Hux endearing.  
  


 

-

  
  


Hux must have inherited all the money in the world over night, had to have done, because the second Ben woke up and attempted to rouse a morning greeting, Hux pounced into his lap, kissing him like he never would again, with so much pure, unsolicited joy pouring from him and into Ben’s mouth. Ben wasn’t usually caught off guard. Hux did it anyway, made him feel trapped in the heat of arousal before his brain had a chance to wake up, like thick tendrils of lust curling around them, similarly to the fog that hung outside, low in the thick forests and over the lake.

He did with other things, too: Could tear Ben apart with a glance, unkindly, with cold eyes and silence. And just when Ben thought he was beginning to get used to it and thought this is finally how things would be from then on, Hux pulled the chair from beneath him and filled him so full of love and everything he had been forced abstinent from. Or Hux would get angry, scream his throat raw and eyes bloodshot and tearful. It wasn’t the kind of anger Ben was prone to--physically destructive, painful and full of pain--which is what was so surprising, no matter how many times Hux did it. (Ben didn’t think he’d ever be able to understand someone unless he’s felt the way they did, and he didn’t feel the way Hux felt. That’s why it was brazenly shocking. That’s why he feared it, no matter how much he told himself it was ridiculous to fear the ones you love; he didn’t know what it lead to or where it came from.) No, Hux stayed away, pushed his feelings until there was that inevitable mushroom cloud over his head and he let his unwillingness to let people feel the guilt and fear they want to feel be punishment enough.

The way Hux needed him was astonishing, too. How even when he told Ben how cruel and over-sensitive and imprudent he was, he wanted it. He needed Ben, all of him, every fatal flaw and awkward charm.

Hux made small, pleased sounds, pulling down Ben’s sweats to grip his cock and--after a strangled groan from Ben as he realised why Hux was moving down--put his lips around the tip and suck. He worked his way down. His hands giving other places attention. Ben practically mewled, and the weight of how lonely he’d been while Hux was in the UK hit him. He brought his hands in heavy fists to the beautiful red hair atop Hux’s beautiful head and struggled keeping his hips still.

They didn’t talk much, except to tell each other what to do, where to press, how,  _ please _ ,  _ fuck _ !

Hux thought he might lose his vision as he fucked Ben as fast and hard and sweet as he could, hands tugging in his long, thick hair just to have something to hold on to. Ben didn’t mind, wanted whatever Hux was afraid to give him.

_ The bullet is gone _ , he thought pointlessly.  _ You can't hurt me. You never did _ .

Ben came first, because Hux was a gentleman, and also not in his Orgasmic Prime at 34 years. Ben was only 24. Ten years. Generations apart. And yet they fit so well together.

Hux kissed as much of Ben as he could before he slumped against him and mumbled something about a shower and a hesitant, “Feel free to join me,” that might’ve sounded threatening if Hux had the energy.

But he didn’t want either of them to move, and Hux seemed to be thinking the exact same thing when they fell asleep together, amongst their filth, trying to find a clever way to relate that to their lives.  
  
  


-

 

Hux was typing an e-mail in the lounge when Ben woke up. It was mid-afternoon, the golden light making everything glow. He was hungry, but he only grabbed a glass and filled it with water, gulped it down and left it in the sink, before joining Hux on the couch. His laptop was sat on his crossed legs, hands moving speedily over the keys. Ben never learned how to type properly, but he typed just as quickly using his own method. Hux didn’t look up, but settled back slightly into the arm that fell around him.

Ben asked, “What’s that?” with little genuine interest, not awake enough to feel like reading it. He played with the ends of Hux’s messy hair instead, watching the strands fall between his fingers. It was soft, and his scalp was warm. The light made it seem more red. Ben always loved that about Hux--of course he’d be just different enough to have red hair.

“For my secretary,” Hux responded shortly. Squinting at the screen, he sighed as he backspaced with more force than necessary.

“Can’t even stop for a vacation?” Ben laughed, but it was dry. His breath smelled weird, and he thought briefly of brushing his teeth before he decided he was too lazy and Hux’s hair too pretty.

Hux worked every day in his life. He was always telling people what to do, sending e-mails, cursing at someone over the phone to  _ get your shit together, this isn’t a game you fucking imbecile _ . Ben couldn’t recall a time when he didn’t work. In their four years ( _ nearly five, a few more weeks and it’ll be five _ ), Hux had spent most of it doing two jobs: taking care of his business, and taking care of Ben.

Ben had nearly ten jobs within that time frame, and Hux was none of them. Hux was never a job. Hux was the relief at the end of a long work day, the warm meal and warmer bed. Hux was this vacation, but every day when he came home. Even when things got hard, and scary. Even when Ben couldn’t believe Hux still wanted him. Even after all the fighting.

“Your life is so hard, Ben, I know,” Hux lamented, finally breaking to look into his eyes. “But when you have steady employment, you have to do your work in order to keep it that way.” It wasn’t as biting a comment as Hux intended, but Ben felt the sting. It wasn’t his worst.

When Ben did nothing but look impassive, Hux clicked his tongue and returned his attention to the screen.

“I love you, too,” Ben said, like it was easy to say, a joke at first, then quickly not. The only indication that he had never said that before, at least not out loud, and that that was significant, was Hux’s incredulous stare. Ben did not recognize the fullness in his chest as any specific emotion, and suspected it was a mix of quite a few.

Hux kissed him shyly, once, a quick peck of their lips. He looked sheepish and small, held Ben’s face a moment after and locked his gaze. There was something different in his eyes. The green vibrant, his pupils wide and shining. He wouldn’t have cried, but he felt it in his chest. Ben knew because he felt it, too.

Hux withdrew back to his e-mail, and pretended neither of them saw the sweet red coloring his cheeks as he pushed up the square frames falling off of his nose. He didn’t wear his glasses all the time, usually opting for contacts, but when he did wear them he became irresistibly handsome. Homely, even.

Ben felt too big next to him--like he was towering, looming over Hux’s thin frame--so he moved from the couch to go make something to eat.

They brought groceries with them from in town, so the fridge and cabinets were stocked with enough food to last the week ahead. He grabbed the bag of assorted fruits and set them on the counter. After digging around for a knife, a peeler, a few bowls, and a cutting board, he started washing the fruit. The bag held a pineapple, grapes, apples, kiwi, peaches, and a pomegranate. He stared at it, not sure if he should cut it all up or only do a few, but then he couldn’t decide what he wanted, so he started with the grapes and apples, making sure they were clean before setting them aside. Then he cut up the pineapple, putting the chunks into a bowl. By the time he got the pomegranate open Hux had sat down to watch him, an easy smile fighting its way to his lips.

“That’s...a lot of fruit.”

“You’re a lot of fruit,” Ben replied after a pause, not sure what to say.

Hux smirked. “Is that a gay thing?”

Ben frowned. “What?”

“Being. You know.  _ Fruity _ .” It took a lot out of Hux not to laugh at Ben’s confusion. He rested his head on his hands and watched him go back to the pomegranate.

“Since when is fruit a  _ gay thing _ ?” Ben asked genuinely. Hux stared blankly at him;  _ like Ben would know _ . “And how can a gay person  _ be _ fruit?”

“You are unbelieveable,” Hux mumbled, taking a few bits of pineapple to munch on.

When Ben was in the hospital, Hux ate his fruit cups. He said they tasted like sugar was poured on rotten eggs. Hux, who could hardly taste a damn thing anyway with his nose broken and clogged with dry blood, ate them happily when they were served. Ben got Hux’s peas. That was only for a short week, and then Hux was released, sling on his arm and bruised ribs and all, while Ben recovered from the shot in his side, alone. The surgeon let him keep the bullet, and he messed with it every day, thinking of the moment he stepped in front of Hux that brought them there.

Then Hux went to the UK for “family business” that he wouldn’t talk about, when he was sure Ben wouldn’t die, and left him in the hospital, then to Rey’s care, for the next month.

“Why did you leave?” Ben asked, angry at the memory. He left it alone for the most part, because Hux was shaken and Ben hadn’t had enough energy to meditate until a week ago, let alone start a row with Hux. He sat next to Hux to join in on his munching. He still couldn’t decide, even with it all displayed and fresh right before him.

“I told you--”

“The truth. Family matters, I understand, but  _ what _ family matters? You don’t fly to Europe after almost dying just to say ‘Hi!’ to grandma.”

The sunset could be seen just above the forest from the patio, and Hux made his way there when he noticed the time. It wasn’t cold anymore. The Georgia spring finally began, and Hux relished the humidity. Ben followed unhappily, turning Hux around to face him once he was affronted by thick, moist evening air.

“Don’t do that. Don’t just-- go away in your head and pretend it’s all okay. You left me and I was scared and alone and I missed you, and now you’re here but you’re different.”

“Calm down,” Hux shouted, face tinged pink. “I’m not  _ different _ okay? I’m me, it’s always been me.”

“Bullshit!” He backed Hux into the tall railing. Hux put his hands against Ben’s chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to push. “Why can’t you be honest with me?”

The anger in Hux’s eyes swelled to a peak. “My father died, Ben. He fucking died, the day of our accident, and my mother mailed me her god damn suicide note the day before I left, and said that if she lost both of her boys she would fucking shoot herself. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The air seemed to be banished from Ben’s lungs at the admission. How could he keep something so devastating from Ben all this time? They’ve already scraped hell with their fingertips together, what purpose did hiding this serve?

Ben took one look, one real, open-eyed look at Hux, and he knew why.

He was sweating, pale, and nearly green. His hands shook frantically as he wiped at his mouth and ran his hand through his hair, chest heaving uneven breaths. He was having a panic attack. Ben was stuck in his place. He could never do anything to help him when he had these, just sat there with him silently, on the bathroom floor, letting the water run in the sink to have some background noise. But this was not a bathroom floor, this was an old wooden patio with two broken lawn chairs and an empty cooler rotting in one corner. Only the sound of the lake and the wind in the trees to listen to.

He wasn’t keeping it from Ben; he was keeping it from himself.

 

-

 

Rey placed a warm cup of coffee in front of Ben and sat across from him, eyes bright and smile brighter. Ben had a hard time keeping his eyes open because of his medicine, but the coffee would hopefully help him out. After a few moments of silence, Rey laughed and picked up her own mug.

“What?” Ben asked, frowning.

“I’m glad you’re home. So is Mom and Dad.”

“I’m not.”

Han stepped into the kitchen and pulled down a mug to make himself some coffee. “How’s the wound, Ben?”

“Fine,” he replied shortly, letting the coffee burn his tongue to occupy it.

“Did you take your meds?” Rey asked, getting up to retrieve the basket of pills they kept on the fridge. She knew he hadn’t. “Here you go. These you take two of, and the others are only one.” She handed him three bottles and ignored Ben’s glare.

Han swallowed a piece of toast and gestured at Ben. “How’s Alroy?”

“ _ Hux _ is fine.”

Han threw up his hands. “You know what? I tried.” He grabbed a sack lunch and his keys from the counter. “I’ve got work, see you tonight. If your mother calls, it’s not for me; She’s  _ worried. _ ”

“Be careful, Han,” Rey said, giving him a hug. Ben drank the rest of his coffee and stood once Han left. “You should be nicer to him, he’s doing a lot for you.”

“He sure did a lot when he--”

“Have you ever considered the idea of forgiveness?”

Ben had. He forgave the guy who shot him, when he realized the strength the experience had given him. He forgives Hux every day, and Hux forgives him in return (maybe more frequently). But some things couldn’t be forgiven.

There were a lot of ways he could have responded, but he kept his mouth shut as a flash of nausea hit him and he threw himself at the nearest bin, grunting at the pain in his head and his side.

Rey liked him, for some unknowable reason, and she rubbed his back as he emptied his stomach. He felt like a child again, being coddled and babied and patronized into oblivion. Leia used to do this, but her hands were cold. Rey’s radiated warmth. As much as Ben resented her, she was so kind to him. She held him when Hux broke, told him it would be okay. She gave him what he couldn’t get anywhere else without feeling guilty for it. Maybe he could forgive her, too. Maybe she could forgive him.

 

-

 

Hux woke up Wednesday morning to banging on the door. Of course, Ben stayed sound asleep, like a fucking elephant, impossible to rouse.  _ Are elephants heavy sleepers? Whatever. That elephant is. _

Hux put on a pair of sweatpants that lay near the door and a clean, white t-shirt from the dresser before making his way.

“Alright! I’m coming!” The knock took on a rhythm of sorts and Hux frowned deeply.

He opened the door and was greeted with one beaming face and a side of tired glare.

“Poe. Finn. What on Earth--”

“We were supposed to be here Monday,” Finn said, sounding as tired as he looked. “But  _ somebody _ thought it would be a good idea to drive down to Disney World.”

“Don’t sound like you didn’t enjoy it!” Poe exclaimed, like he’d said it a hundred times already and was prepared to say it again.

“May we come in?” Finn asked, ignoring his husband in favor of getting out of the morning heat.

Hux couldn’t remove the shock from his features, but he closed his mouth as he stepped aside.

It was no use; they were holding luggage--two bags each. His jaw returned to gaping.

“This is a nice place, very cozy,” Poe said, finding his way into the lounge and taking a seat. Finn followed behind, joining him.

Hux closed the door too softly for how he was feeling.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Poe’s grin was obnoxious. “We’re here to join you! Just for a few days, then we’ve gotta get back to the puppy.”

“How did you find us? Ren said this place was safe.”   


Ren.  _ Fuck, it was probably all his idea. _ Hux resented the wash of betrayal that fell over him. Ben promised a quiet break from everything. He promised. Hux was an idiot to believe him--after all of the let downs already, he should have guessed.

There was a time when they were happy. The beginning of their relationship was plentiful with love and joy. Overflowing, perhaps. They spilled it all in their first year, spent every waking second being as giddy and young as they never had been before. The night everything changed stabbed into Hux’s memory, opened the wound he thought was done healing.

He remembered shaking in fear, trapped by it, as Ben rampaged through their apartment and forgot himself. Hux had seen less intense outbursts. He’d been screamed at, cried to, ignored. But there was this shift in Ben that hux hadn’t noticed before, where he became this completely different person. It was like watching an actor get into character, or the skin molt on a snake in high speed. It was a flurry of chaos and Hux was afraid Ben had finally lost it all.

Poe and Finn looked at each other, and amidst the irritation and concern Hux thought he saw tender intimacy. Hux never held Ben. He‘d hugged him, but it wasn’t to help him up.

“Don’t give me excuses!” Ben shouted from the bedroom, and for the first time in a while, Hux winced. “I told you not to call me! What kind of--”

Poe gave him this look, these eyes and this weirdly quirked mouth, and Hux knew what had happened. His face reddened in anger. He couldn’t decide if he should shout at the two dumb-eyed traitors before him or storm for the bedroom and and yell at Ben’s mother.   
  


 

-  
  


 

Ben tripped over the threshold of the door walking into the office building, and thought meekly that that was a sign of how the rest of his day would go. Before that, burnt toast and no creamer had managed to discourage him enough from shaving the stubble from his chin, only enough effort put in his outfit to make sure it might have matched. It hadn’t rained, but it was supposed to, and maybe that was also a sign, but Ben wouldn’t trust it.

The receptionist stared at him boredly from behind her desk as he approached with a smile he himself couldn’t discern as genuine or not.

He was turning twenty in a few days, and hoped to know if he got the job or not before then. But that was only something he could trust himself to think after the interview. He could think about it then, get his hopes up when there were hopes to have.

“I’m here for an interview with New Empire,” he said, adjusting his suit.

“Name?” The receptionist began shuffling papers, and pulled a pen out of nowhere.

“Ben Solo,” he said reluctantly. He hated his name, hated the political weight it carried.

“You’re here to see Mr. Starkiller himself?” She seemed shocked by this information.

“No,” Ben said. “I was told my interview was with a Hux.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s the same guy, don’t worry.” She had long, dark brown hair pulled into a neat bun, modest make up and boring clothes. But her energy was a jarring juxtaposition. She was bright and cheery, and her high voice only accentuated it. Ben hated it. She picked up the phone and pressed a button, and after a moment told whoever was on the other line, “Mr. Solo is here for his interview. Will do, sir.”

Ben willed himself not to get nervous. If he got the job, he would rub it in his mother’s face. If he didn’t, he would also rub it in his mother’s face. There was nothing to fear.

“It’s just,” she said softly, as if sharing a secret. Ben leaned down to hear her. “He doesn’t usually do the interviews himself. Not to worry, though! He’s more serious than intimidating. Just be yourself!”

Ben started to worry.  _ Be myself? What does that mean? _

“His current meeting is running late. You know what, feel free to help yourself to the lounge once you get there,” she continued, writing on a soft blue Post-It. “No one uses the one in that hall this early. Here’s the the floor, section code, and a few words of encouragement! Good luck!”

Ben made his way to the elevators and read the note.

_ 11th floor (I know, long trek--it’ll be worth it!) _

_ Section B Code: 2434 _

_ Lounge is to your left, someone will retrieve you for the interview. _

_ If your charm doesn’t get you the job, nothing could have. _

_ -J.P. _

Ben found himself chuckling. The last person who associated him with charm fucked him and never talked to him again. Ruefully, he imagined that was about to happen to him.

He found his way to a door. A sign on the door to enter told him he was in “Section B” and  to punch in his code on the handle. The door opened to a long hall, with scattered doors on either side.

A ridiculous amount of security for an insurance company, surely.

He found the lounge and sat nervously at the small table. It was 9:15 am, the time when his interview was supposed to start

After about ten minutes of silence, a man and woman walked in. One had short red hair, the other short, bleach-blonde. The woman had to be taller than Ben, and her heels only added to it. The man was smiling, going for the coffee pot--a fucking Keurig.

In a frightening moment, Ben’s eyes locked onto the man’s, and for the first time Ben felt self-conscious. Well, maybe not the first time. The man’s face was thin, skin pale, hair neat and combed into perfection. His suit was a dark blue, not quite navy, which could not have looked better on anyone else. Of it all, the most catching feature was his eyes, his lashes. Ben looked away almost immediately, but then he started smiling, and he thought he might almost die of embarrassment if he let that happen.

The man, however, seemed perfectly fine, and went to rest his mug down.

“Damn it,” the man said, some kind of English accent catching Ben’s attention. He didn’t dare turn his face back, however tempting. It was clipped like Rey’s when she got angry, but not quite as emotive. “I have to make more. Will you wait?”

“Actually,” the woman said, and why Ben expected anything other than a slightly different, but still undeniably British accent, he couldn’t tell. “I have lunch with a client, so I’ll get going. Keep me updated.”

She left, and the man looked like he’d just been abandoned. Ben turned away again, fiddling with his phone. Ten minutes passed in silence, and the tension was suffocating. Ben hated that he seemed unaffected by it.

“Help yourself to some coffee,” the man said, leaned against the counter. “ _ I _ made it, so it should be to some standard.”

Ben looked up slowly, afraid.  _ Of what? A pretty face?  _ “No thank you,” he said. “I’m...too nervous.”

The man laughed and it was like watching the sun rise. His laugh was an unexpected giddy thing that, as with the rest of this man so far, took his breath away. “Nervous is a word you usually only hear from clients, not employees.”

“Well, I’m not an employee.”

“Oh?” His posture changed quickly into something like fight or flight. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Look, I’m waiting for Mr. Hux to get done with his meeting, so if it’s alright…”

Something devilish flashed in the man’s eyes. “You mean that you have an interview with Mr. Starkiller? In the flesh?"

“Y-Yes, I do. Why does everyone keep calling him that?"

“Most people say he’s gone insane, is all. Some rubbish about building an empire, and then he goes and crushes everyone’s dreams-- hence,  _ Starkiller _ . Funny thing is, that’s what his branch-off business was going to be called, but then it got shut down. So, really, it’s  _ his _ dreams that were crushed, but who isn’t hard on their boss, eh?”

Ben smiled politely, trying to pretend to care. He needed this interview to be over.  _ Where is this dream crusher? _ “He sounds like a nice guy,” Ben joked.

That laugh again. “Well, I’d better get back to work.” The man made to leave, and Ben was grateful to have some privacy. He knew his face was probably burning, he could feel it. “Oh, I never caught your name.”

Ben stared at him blankly. “Ben. Solo.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben.”

“And your name?”

“Alroy B. Hux,” he said, and pivoted sharply, heels clicking softly down the hall.

  
  


-

  
  


Poe took down four wine glasses and dug around in the kitchen for any alcohol he could find. The night was settling, cicadas filling up any empty spaces in the music that played from the lounge--a record player blasting an old jazz collection. “Gloomy Sunday” rang through the cabin, Billie Holiday’s soft voice putting into song the mood they all currently felt. “I’m making steak for dinner, but we don’t have any traditional steak sides other than salad, is that cool with you guys?” Poe asked, and the three men stared at him from the island, bored and nodding. “Great! I’m glad we’re all overzealous tonight.”

“You’re the only one feeling anything other than distress at the moment,” Hux said, staring into his hands. He lifted his head as if a lightbulb had suddenly gone off. “What’s your secret?”

“My secret?” Poe opened the last drawer and sighed; no wine.

Ben stood quickly. “Don’t be dramatic,” he told Hux, and left for the bedroom.

Finn scowled. “Where’s he--”

“Wine,” Hux said, bored.

Ben returned with two bottles of wine in one hand, and that glass of bourbon in the other.

“That’s...smart.” Poe took the open wine bottle and poured into the glasses. There was just enough if he filled them all halfway.

Hux snatched the bourbon and kept in next to him, accepting the wine offered to him and gulped it down. The three stared at him, differing levels of concern (Poe and Finn) and bitter amusement (Ben). Once it was empty, he silently dared anyone to judge him as he filled it back up with the bourbon, not even caring that it was a sipping drink as he took two large gulps. He coughed, after, and it hurt his pride more than his throat. Finn put his hand around the glass and slowly slid it out of reach, as if afraid to provoke him--the wild alcoholic beast that could crumble at any moment if startled. That hurt, too.

“Not even a sound from you, Ben,” Hux said. He went to go flip the record, and nobody stopped him when he took the glass along.

Finn and Poe nodded at each other, and Finn followed after Hux.

“What are you trying to do?” Ben asked Poe once they were alone.

“He needs this more than you,” Poe said, taking the packaged meat from the fridge. He looked at it solemnly before putting it back. “I’m going to be honest, man, I don’t know how to make steak.”

Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I figured.” His hands covered his face, breath hot between his palms. The music stopped, and it didn’t start again.

“I’m sorry about all this, you know?”

“What have you got to be sorry for?”

“Showing up, not making steak, not being there for you.”

“Poe--”

“But that doesn’t matter, because I’m here now and that won’t change.” Poe sat down, frowning at Ben in concern.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ben said, eyes still closed and covered. “I don’t need pity. Just time.”

“You can’t hide from your problems.”

Ben wasn’t hiding. He was here for Hux, because  _ Hux _ needed to hide. He was just floating along. 

  
  


-

  
  


Hux stopped at the record player and couldn’t move. He felt sick and trapped. He was so confused and the Newlyweds being here made his head hurt.

“Hux,” Finn said softly, stepping into the room and stopping short at Hux’s hunched shoulders and still frame. “Can we have a chat?”

Hux laughed, but placed a hand on his hip and turned. “I should’ve expected this. You two show up expecting to fix whatever brought us here, so Ben’s poor mother doesn’t have to sit on her piles of divorce money and...worry about her son being a three day trip away.” He took a sip of bourbon and sat on the couch, turned to where Finn leaned against the archway. “Well, come on. Sit.”

“Right.” Finn sat at the other end, leaning back.

“We’re fine, really,” Hux insisted, and even if it was the biggest lie he’d ever told, it came out easily. “After everything that’s happened, we’re shaken up. All of this is highly unnecessary.”

Finn seemed to gather himself for a long speech, but all that came out was, “I care about you.”

Finn never liked Hux, and it was only natural that Hux felt the same about him in return, but as far as Hux knew, neither of them had a real reason. Though, to be fair, not very many people ever liked him right away. Not even Ben, who pushed his buttons like no one ever had; poking fun at everything he could before he said anything of substance.

_ “Sir, that suit makes you look figure-less.” _

_ “Hux, the coffee machine is broken. Were you looking at it for too long?” _

_ “Your hair is ridiculous. And you look homeless with that beard.” _

Hux smiled fondly, thinking that if those “insults” were anything they were poorly masked compliments. Finn looked at him as if he was surprised to see anything like happiness on Hux. Even if Finn thought it was for him, Hux allowed it.

“I suppose in some way,” Hux said. “I care about you, too.”

“Good.” Finn crossed an ankle over his thigh and sat smugly with his wine, no doubt feeling like he had just broken some barrier. “Then talk to me. Tell me about it.”

“ _ It _ ?”

“Why you’re here; whatever you need to get out.”

“Why I’m…” Hux looked into his glass for answers. It was nearly empty. He didn’t remember drinking that much of it.

He set it down on the coffee table, hand shaking slightly, and looked confusedly at Finn.

_ Oh. All of it. _

  
  


-

  
  
  


Hux’s vision had been alternating between shaky and blurred, body almost too heavy to stand. He couldn’t make his head stop hurting. The alcohol, a nameless gas station brand of something strong and painful he had stolen, kept slipping in his hand. Each time the neck of the bottle fell in his sweaty palm, he made it a point to take a sip and readjust. It was like a quiet game he could play, easy rules to focus on. A system to calm him.

Phasma gave him pills he’d never had before. Maybe that was why he had such a terrible migraine.

The moon was only a sliver in the clouded sky, keeping the streets dark. He didn’t know where he was, but his feet trudged on as if they did.

Hux looked down at them and pouted.

Occasionally a car passed by, and the headlights made him feel like he was being plucked from the earth and flung into the sun. He still had his uniform on. It probably smelled like shit. Hux didn’t care. He had school tomorrow, but he wouldn’t be going after this. If he was lucky, he’d overdose before they could lock him up. ( _ For what? Being high off my balls for the first time in months? They do say once is enough. _ )

He’d flipped out again, earlier. He lost time, too, which never happened before, but now he was scared, and alone, and hyperventilating as he stumbled through an unfamiliar, posh neighborhood. 

He thought he heard footsteps behind him and whipped around, heart suddenly pounding. A dark stretch of suburb lay behind him, empty streets and porch lights.

The blood seemed to rush from his head, and he fell to the ground, vision black and thoughts muted to silence briefly before he fought his way to consciousness again. He wanted to go home. His face was digging into wet gravel, and he thought he might have a few cuts from it, and he really wanted to go home.

He remembers the way everyone looked at him. Like he was a monster. His own father yelled at him for--  _ I’m so alone. _

He stood, unsteadily, and couldn’t find the bottle anywhere nearby. He started shaking, freezing cold. He could have curled up right on the sidewalk and never moved again.

As he made his way further through ambiguous streets, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d never get home. Maybe he’d be doomed to walk the streets like a drugged zombie, until someone thought to look for him. If anyone bothered. He never expected to be one of  _ those _ people, but he supposed he had it coming.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. It would rain soon. It was always raining.

Hux sat on the curb in defeat, the moon meeting the height of its journey across the sky. Morning would come soon. His head and feet still hurt, his eyes were watery and irritated from his contacts. He felt around lazily for keys, a wallet, anything to help him in some way. He had a wallet, with a few twenties from his last paycheck, and his school ID. He struggled to see the picture, but even if he could see it clear as day he still wouldn’t feel like the same person; his stupid name wouldn’t feel like his own.

A car pulled up next to him and waited. It was a powerhouse of a car. It sounded like a mechanical monster. He flinched, delayed, waiting for it to consume him.

“You’re in a hell of a lot of trouble.”

Hux looked up into a broad grin.

“Pha-Pha _ sss _ ma-ah,” he stuttered and slurred, every inch of him buzzing with the sewage in his system, somehow making his way to his feet. A slight breeze brought to his attention how cold he had been, and he swayed with it.

“Jesus, Hux, you look dead,” Phasma said quietly, laughing. But when Hux laughed, her smile faltered. “Fuck, get in.” Phasma opened the passenger door and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, helping him to the door. “I’m taking you to a hospital--”

“No!” Hux shrieked, pushing away, scraping viciously at whatever monster was clutching onto him, forcing him inside.

“Shut the hell up! Someone’s gonna think I’m kidnapping you or some shit.”

“No! Please! Don’t don’t don’t. No.” The fight slowly drained out his limbs as Phasma strapped him into the seat belt and slammed the door.

“Don’t, Phas, please. They-- They’ll tell my, my dad. They’ll hurt me. I can’t. Can’t.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Phasma said, reaching a hand over, meaning to hold one of Hux’s own cold, shuddering hands. When Hux flinched away and settled against the door, searching frantically for a way out, Phasma turned the heat up all the way instead, annoyed and scared and feeling guilty for all it was worth. “I’ll take you to my place, then. You can crash there.”

“Don’t call my parents,” Hux said warningly.

“I won’t,” Phasma lied.

“Promise me!”

“I won’t, I won’t! Fuck. Never giving you anything again, you fucking lunatic.”

When Hux calmed down, he frowned in bitter resentment out at the night.

  
  


-  
  
  


 

“It’s not like I’m unstable anymore, I just. Forget where I am and let it out. Ben is good for me, in some ways, despite my anger.”

“Isn’t he struggling, too?” Finn asked, the first interesting question in what felt like hours.

“ _ Struggling _ ?” Hux laughed. “No. He’s the opposite of struggling. He’s got the world wrapped around his finger and he doesn’t even know it, he’s so caught up in his head.”

Finn laughed, finishing off his wine. Hux saw something warm in his eyes, maybe. Or it was just the boiling pot of alcohol in his stomach. “You’ve done a lot of good for Ben, you know that?”

Hux snorted, holding his chest as he leaned into the cushions. “We ruin each other. It’s beautiful.”

“Hux?”

“I thought about you guys when I got my first ice cream cone,” Hux said absentmindedly.

“Did you even know us--?”

“You and Poe. Is it like eating ice cream for the first time? Is it so sweet?”

“Is what?”

“Ben handed it to me and I told him he was stupid. I feel guilty, sometimes, when I say things. It’s a weird feeling. I care for it, but unfortunately I do a lot of regrettable things.”

“Hux, I think you’re absolutely wasted,” Finn said pointlessly, feeling a buzz himself and not wanting anything to be said he shouldn’t hear.

“Me?” Hux’s eyes were wide, and he looked wrecked with fear so suddenly Finn was concerned. “I’m not a lightweight.” He sounded like a petulant child, and he felt like it, too. He liked talking to Finn; it was easy. Finn was nice.  _ I care about him _ , Hux decided. “Ben was a virgin when I first fucked him--”

“Okay, that’s quite enough!”

“No, listen to me!” Hux crawled across the couch and placed a hand clumsily on Finn’s shoulder, staring fiercely into his eyes. “Listen. He was a virgin. In a lotta ways. I gave him everything he needed, and he took and took and took ‘nd took, took, took, took... But I loved it. And now he’s giving me his everything--these stupid woods with their stupid mosquitos and the shitty bourbon and you. And I need to take it.”

Finn nodded, unsure what to say.

Hux excused himself from his conversation with Finn, and both Poe and Finn watched Hux drag Ben into the bedroom like a pair of drunken teens going off to have a quickie .

“Hux, what? What’s going--”

“Shut up,” Hux said, and then he kissed Ben like he was starving of it, open mouthed, and panting before it even really began.

Ben wrapped his arms around Hux’s trim waist and tugged them as close as they could get, moaning into his mouth.

“Taking it. Take,” Hux growled against his neck, biting unforgivingly at his skin and sucking. Ben made a confused sound, hand coming to rest in Hux’s overgrown hair and tug lightly. Hux moaned, then, and that was all either of them needed to feel it again--whatever had been ripped from each other.

They shed their clothes, watching each other as they did. They hadn’t had good sex since their first year or so, hadn’t really felt each other maybe even before then.

Hux thought about their first night together, then. Ben was so pliant and submissive, a fucking virgin of all things. He blushed at any touch, it was beautiful. Ben was beautiful. And Hux felt like a pervert, but Ben had been so  _ good _ for him, so unabashedly wanton and loud (though that didn’t change much).

Hux looked at the scars on Ben’s body and only trembled slightly. He couldn’t stop the memories from flooding in at the sight, but he could use them.

He fell to his knees before Ben, one hand running lightly over the pink flesh of his side, the other wrapping around his cock to tug it to full hardness. Ben whimpered at his touch, and Hux slid the roaming hand up to a nipple to twist and pull until Ben had to slide his own hands into red hair.

“I’ve missed you,” Hux said, and Ben had no idea what Hux meant, but he missed Hux, too, in his own way. “You felt different, these last few months. Like it wasn’t you. You were just a shell. A pretty, cracked shell. But you’re so Ben right now. I’m losing my mind.”

Ben hauled Hux to his feet and kissed him harshly, digging his nails into his back. Hux grinded their hips together, erections pressing delightfully between them.

“I missed you, too,” Ben said. “Please--”  
  
“Don’t beg.” Hux pushed Ben onto the bed, climbing on top of him to kiss his collar and suck deep bruises there, fingers dragging softly down Ben’s stomach, so slow he shivered. “You don’t have to beg. I’m gonna take it, promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Songs by The Mountain Goats that you need to listen to while reading, after reading, and when remembering. The thing "(!!!)" means it is a song that I recommend you look at the lyrics for.
> 
> Old College Try  
> White Cedar  
> Mole (!!!)  
> New Britain (!!!)  
> I Will Grab You By The Ears (!!!)  
> Cry For Judas  
> Alphabetizing  
> Song For Lonely Giants  
> Star Dusting  
> Cold Milk Bottle  
> Golden Boy  
> West Country Dream  
> Spent Gladiator 2  
> Maize Stalk Drinking Blood  
> Evening In Stalingrad  
> Choked Out  
> Have To Explode  
> Cotton  
> Orange Ball Of Pain (!!!)  
> Get Lonely  
> Weekend In Western Illinois  
> Idylls of the Kings  
> Send Me An Angel  
> Prowl Great Cain  
> Full Flower
> 
> ((Maybe there will be an after-the-fact where I talk about the meanings of the songs to the peace. If you want.)) (((Let me know. About anything.)))


End file.
